“I didn’t know you liked Cass,” Reuben says.
“I…”
I don’t.
For some reason, I can’t say it.
But I don’t!
Still, you enjoy what he does to you. The way it makes you feel. You’ve always loved the idea of being a sinner, haven’t you?
“I’m not upset,” he says in the same monotone as before.
Always so calm, so centered. Makes me wonder what it’s like when he loses control.
Like you did with Cass.
Shut up!
“I should go,” I say again. “Probably can’t have anyone see me here.”
“Do you still like me?”
“Yes.”
Fuck. Fuck!
I shiver when Reuben touches the side of my neck, but it’s just to draw a curl away from my ear.
“So you can like more than one guy at a time?”
No.
Yes.
Maybe?
Trick question! I only like Reuben.
Don’t I?
What about Zach?
Fuck.
Well? What about him?
“Do I have to?” I murmur, trying to find an easy way out.
“Yes.” Reuben’s fingers trail down and then caress the ridge of my collarbones. That light touch sends a shiver through me.
“Why?”
“We’re too close. Have been for so long.”
“If you really thought that, then you wouldn’t have kissed me.”
He turns me around and gently grasps my chin. “Kisses mean nothing.” There’s a strange hitch in his voice that belies the words. Because he does like me, or because someone told him that a long time ago and he still believes it? “I like kissing girls.”
My eyes widen. “Oh,” I murmur, heat slowly crawling up my face.
Can I be more embarrassed? I thought Reuben genuinely liked me. But if it’s just something he gets a kick from…?
Fuck it—he does like me.
I’ll prove it.
“Then kiss me,” I say. “Kiss me and tell me it doesn’t mean anything.”
He cocks his head a little to the side, as if intrigued by my suggestion. Then he ducks, scoops me into his arms, and presses me against the door. Just like last time, my legs wrap around him like I’ve done this a thousand times before.
Blasphemous little slut.
I’m suddenly too aware of how close my core is to his body. Pressed to his stomach just above his belt, I can only imagine what it would feel like if he was to lift my skirt so the rough fabric of his jeans could rub against me.
Damn it, I am a slut. Is this because Cass got me so hot and bothered earlier? Or is it because when I feel like this, I can’t think about other things? Horrible, confusing things.
Maybe a little of both.
“Are you sure?” he asks.
“That I want you to kiss me?” I frown at him. “Yes.”
“I mean, are you sure you want to test me?”
My frown deepens.
He shifts his grip, pressing me harder against the door. Even through my skirt, that friction is enough to send a host of urgent signals through my body.
Now every part of me is paying attention—from my lips to my nipples, to my center, to my fucking toes.
“You shouldn’t treat this like a game, Trinity.” Reuben’s black eyes harden with the same intense determination he’d worn the day we met. He traces the outline of one of my buttons and then starts popping them open.
“You’re supposed to be kissing me,” I whisper.
“I am,” he agrees calmly. “But you never said where.”
Good God, now I’m picturing him kissing my breasts, drawing my nipples into his mouth and teasing each tight bud with his teeth. I start trembling internally. When I grab onto his shoulders, he pauses in his methodical work, his fingers in line with my nipples.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I say breathlessly.
He lets out a soft, “Hmm,” as if he’s not one-hundred percent satisfied with my answer.
God, this is torture. I’m tempted to ask him to hurry the fuck up.
The last button pops open. He slides a hand behind my bodice and parts the two halves of my dress.
But not all the way. Just enough so that I can see the edge of my bra when I glance down.
Then he shifts his grip and holds onto me with one arm—one arm?—while he hunts around in his pocket for something. What is he looking for, a condom?
I know where to find some.
Did Gabriel sleep with my Dad? Well, he’d have to, probably, to consider it an affair.
Dear Lord, I can’t handle this shit.
I lean forward, my eyes fluttering closed, fully intending to kiss Reuben just to put an end to the sour thoughts filling my head.
But he moves his head aside so I end up kissing his fucking ear.
I huff impatiently and press the back of my head against the door, glaring up at him as he carries on rifling through his pocket.
I cross my arms over my chest, moving my mouth to the side. “What are you looking for?”
“This.”
He lifts a red rosary. My hands fly to my chest, but I touch bare skin. “How did you—?”
“You left it here.”
My mind scurries back to the shower I took earlier today. “No I didn’t.”
He says nothing.
“I must have put it back on.”
Still nothing.
“I put it on top of my clothes. It would have been the first thing I saw.”
He quirks an eyebrow at me.
“It must have fallen off.” I keep brushing my skin and then hold out my hand, palm up. “Whatever. Give it back.”
His fingers close over the red beads. “It’s mine.”
“You gave it to me.”
“But you don’t believe. What’s the point?”
My heart stutters at that. His commanding stare forces me to drop my gaze. What the fuck am I supposed to say to that?
The smell of roses hits my nose. He’s rubbing the crucifix with his thumb, intensifying the scent.
I bite down on my lip. I’m such a jerk. It obviously means a lot to him, and I’m demanding him to give it back.
He tenses when I lay my hand over his. I slowly close his fingers over the necklace.
“You’re right. There’s no point. It’s yours, anyway.”
But then, as I’m holding him, staring into those pitch-black eyes, a wriggling worm of doubt starts working its way through my mind.
“Wait…” I turn my head, watching him warily from the corner of my eye. “I know I put it on my clothes. It…it wasn’t there when I got out.”
He watches me with the patience of a rock.
My eyes go wide. “You took it.”
There’s the tiniest flicker in his eyes.
“Oh my God!” I slap a hand into his chest and begin squirming against him so he’ll let me go. “You were watching us!”
He lets out a soft grunt, grabs my ass, and slams me back into the door hard enough to rattle it.
Shock dips me in ice.
My hands are on his chest, fingers digging into his muscles, but I slowly retract them and hug myself instead.
He lets out a long breath through his nose and then slowly scans my face like he’s looking for something.
I don’t know if he finds it, but a moment later he slips his rosary over my head and tucks it behind the open halves of my dress. Then he slowly starts buttoning me up again.